


Her brothers have to remind her to think about herself sometimes

by drowninglinguists



Category: Naruto
Genre: F/M, Gen, musings, she has to wonder what everyone important to her thinks about it, she made a big decision
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-13
Updated: 2019-02-13
Packaged: 2019-10-27 15:15:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17769194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drowninglinguists/pseuds/drowninglinguists
Summary: Temari made a big decision, and she did not make it lightly. But she also did not make it with her head. She will always have her brothers' support, but sometimes she needs reminding. Sometimes she needs reminding that it is okay to turn out to be who she wants to be.





	Her brothers have to remind her to think about herself sometimes

**Author's Note:**

> I looooove writing Temari's thoughts, and especially about this topic I think there are so many emotions to cycle through and dissect in her own head. She's a strategist; she needs to understand and she needs to have a plan. She needs to try and think with her head, because that's what she was taught. But she's becoming a new version of herself, and maybe this one thinks a little less about what everyone else wants.

Sunagakure’s low population is inherent to both its environment and its way of life. The desert is unforgiving and does not provide its shinobi with enough resources to maintain a large population. Unlike the other hidden villages, kunoichi are not pressured to have children. Some say the women of Suna are just as harsh and unforgiving; allowed a high degree of freedom their whole lives, they do not bend to the wills of their male counterparts as easily as other kunoichi might.

 

As the Kazekage’s daughter, Temari’s degree of freedom was somewhat limited. She is his firstborn, his only daughter, and she carries the face of her dead mother. Karura had the latent potential of a great kunoichi-- Temari’s gifts in the art of ninjutsu are not solely from her father, as much as she’d like to pretend otherwise. Karura simply made the decision to retire from shinobi life and have her children. She committed herself wholly to motherhood.

 

The decision would later kill her. 

 

Temari recognizes that she had no way of knowing that at the time, but cannot chase the thought that  _ if she had _ , would things be different?

 

Would Gaara never have suffered through so many years of his life? Would she and Kankuro be better-adjusted, know how to socialize, how to be around other people? Would her father have been allowed to parent them without the monster of his own conscience killing him slowly? (She isn’t so stupid as to believe Orochimaru defeated the Third Kazekage without a fight.)

 

She cannot see herself as a mother. Maybe it is because she was three when she lost hers, maybe it is because she took it upon herself to mother Gaara as much as she dared, maybe it is because she does not  _ want _ children. 

 

Being a career kunoichi is not unheard of, though perhaps it is most common in Suna. 

 

Temari walks herself down into the records room, in broad daylight and everything. The effort of several days' worth of convincing herself this is _ not _ something she should be ashamed of have made her stubborn, at the very least. It is a quick walk, not enough time for her to sort out her thoughts completely. The records room is uninviting; almost a mile ground and with layers upon layers of dust older than her, it is clear that visitors are scarce to this corner of the Kazekage Tower. She closes the door behind her, perhaps it is an automatic habit or perhaps it is out of guilt. The wince she has to fight at the sharp  _ screeching _ of the drawer when she pulls it open remove any decision-making as to which it was.

 

Despite the state of the room, the records are well kept and neat. Everything is alphabetized and neatly put away; obviously  _ someone _ tends to this room. Maybe that’s something she should know as a high-ranking member of Sunagakure’s government. Still, the fact is she doesn’t.

 

Her calloused hands are efficient and quick, as she has been trained to be. She lies the file on the dark cedar desk and opens it. The birth rate has been recorded diligently since Sunagakure’s establishment fifty-four years ago. It has always been around 1.4%.

 

Her finger slides down the page and her eyes follow it. It has fluctuations of no more than .3%; even during the First and Second Great Shinobi Wars they were still able to boast 1.1%. Unheard of when compared to the casualties suffered by the other hidden villages.

 

But historically, there has not been much fighting done in their desert. The dunes take years to learn to move efficiently on; the sun steals the energy of its victims without thought or purpose, sunburn or sunstroke or mere dehydration; those creatures that have adapted to live in the harsh environment eat whatever or whoever they can find.

 

Maybe their ancestors were unwise to make a home in such a place. Their ancestors were a persecuted people, chased out of more hospitable places and forced to end old feuds and band together in the name of survival. Temari happens to know there used to be five distinct desert tribes in kaze no kuni, but that is all she knows. Their names were not written down, and modern day genetic evidence of difference is only visible in skin tone and eye color.

 

She supposes that her parents’ ancestry comes from different tribes. She and Kankuro do not look the same in coloring, although their faces have the same angular quality and sharp eyes. She and Gaara may have the same light eyes, but his face is far softer than either of his siblings’. He resembles their mother. 

 

And still, there is no point to her musings because she is leaving all of this behind. 

 

She swallows, turning back to the filing cabinet and replacing her file with another one. Her finger traces down a new line of information, detailing the death rate for fifty-four years. It was 2.0% one year, during the Third Great War, but since Gaara took office it has dropped to remarkably low rates. .4% looks like the average in the past six years.

 

She feels a new warmth bloom in her chest for her little brother. He has done  _ so well _ and part of her heart aches that she will not be here to support him throughout his entire reign as Kazekage. The meticulous percentages blur with the hot tears pricking at her eyes. 

 

She leans up and away from the document, rubbing furiously with the back of her wrist.

 

There is no scientific evidence that she can give to convince herself she needs to stay. Suna will be just fine without her. She never wanted children anyway.

 

Neither Gaara nor Kankuro find her down in the Records Room, and she was foolish to expect that they would. When she returns to ground-level, a passing glance at a clock tells that she was gone eighteen minutes-- instead of the perceived hours spent staring at birth and death rates.

 

Her feet do not make a sound as she traces the familiar route through above-ground section of the Tower. She can walk these halls blindfolded; she has spent her life in this building. 

Shikamaru will be here tomorrow to spend two months with her and her brothers before they leave together for Konoha. A new chapter of her life will start there; the first chapter of her life with Shikamaru, as  _ Nara _ Temari. She will step into co-leadership of an ancient clan, she will give up her Suna citizenship, she  _ may _ one day have children.

 

She will change. It is likely that she is already not the daughter her father wanted; the moment she said yes, she changed the course of her life. No longer just a kunoichi, no longer with the good of Sunagakure first in her heart, she will leave all of that behind very soon. Rasa would frown in disapproval, more than likely, and then he would sigh and tell her to do what she wanted; she had always looked too much like her mother for her father to be able to say no to her.

 

Behind his crossed arms and his verbal acquiescence, Rasa would not approve.

 

She wonders, though, if her mother would support her decision. Karura made a controversial choice; every able bodied man and woman is expected to serve the village as a shinobi, and she gave it up despite her talent and her lineage because she wanted to raise a family with her husband. It is not, Temari thinks, all that different from what she wants to do.

 

She wants a family with her future husband-- probably, she thinks, some day. But, with certainty she knows she wants to move to Konoha. She knows she wants to lead the Nara Clan with Shikamaru. She knows it is a life she can grow into and a life she can love. She likes Konoha just fine. She likes the members of the Nara clan she has thus far met. It will be nice to have new anonymity; no one will ever tell her she looks like her mother again; no one will make snide remarks about her father's many failures; no one will ask after her brothers with the intent of finding weaknesses to exploit.

 

She will not be the Kazekage’s daughter, nor the Kazekage’s sister, nor even the Kazekage’s bodyguard. She will simply be Temari.

 

She will be Shikamaru’s wife, she will be the Nara Clan matriarch; she will be the only tessenjutsu master in hi no kuni. 

 

Beginning to smile, she cuts herself off and opens the door to Gaara’s office. As always, he is hunched behind his desk with his face too close to the document he is reading.

 

“Sit up,” she admonishes him lightly, “you’ll give yourself scoliosis by the time you’re forty.”

 

A second, and then Gaara looks up. “You are right.” He does not right his spine.

 

Two clicks of her tongue and Gaara sighs, finally listening.

 

Temari grins. “You’ll thank me one day.”

 

“Perhaps,” Gaara is meeting her with a small smile of his own.

“Are you busy?” She may cut the moment a little short, but she’s always been blunt.

 

Gaara shakes his head once. “Not for you.”

 

“I was thinking,” she sits on the desk next to him, crossing her legs. Her too-long pause and the twitch in her calf muscle betray her anxiety. It is not a detail Gaara misses, and as his eyes lift back to hers Temari forces herself to breathe.

 

“Dad probably wouldn’t approve of what I’m doing.”

 

Gaara surprises her, almost as though he has had his answer ready. “It is impossible to say.”

 

“You really think so?”

 

Gaara lifts one shoulder. “He was a complicated man, more so than the three of us. He wasn’t good to me, but he was better to you and Kankuro. Maybe he would have given you his blessing.”

 

The words are kind, and they calm her nerves. Gaara has gotten very good at comforting her lately. “Maybe,” she’ll allow the thought.

 

Her eyes droop slightly and she almost falls all the way through her thoughts again. “What about Mom? None of us remember what she was like, but she made a similar decision, if you think about it.”

 

Gaara is silent, so she finishes the thought.

 

“She gave up being a kunoichi. That isn’t done in Sunagakure.”

 

“Ah,” he laces his fingers and rests his chin upon them, “I suppose you are right. I had not thought of her like that.”

 

His posture worries Temari--her automatic reflex is to make him feel better. “You look the most like her.”

 

He might be blushing, and she smiles.

 

“It’s in your face,” she continues, “it’s softer than mine or Kankuro’s, and your eyes are less deep-set.”

 

He is thoughtful in his silence, smiling to himself.

 

“She had three children.” 

She keeps ruining Gaara’s smiles today, but at least he is giving her his attention. Right now, his face is only a question.

 

“I don’t know if I want kids.”

 

It is a complicated subject, but she wants his opinion. So she waits, though it is hard, while he painstakingly mulls over his thoughts and selects the words he wants.

 

“You do not have to have children. I am sure that Shikamaru would not mind--”

 

“It’s not him. But the Nara Clan, the elders, you know they want an heir and I just don’t know if… I’ve  _ never _ thought about it. I never wanted kids, or even  _ a _ child. I could never see myself as a mother. I was content being a kunoichi for all of my life; I was content serving the village and protecting you and refusing to retire just like Lady Chiyo.”

 

The consequences of her decision display themselves in her little brother’s eyes: she sees sadness.

 

“Past tense.”

 

She blinks at him, not understanding.

 

“You are using past tense, Temari.”

 

It hits her like a punch to the gut; suddenly she cannot breathe. He is right. “I--”

 

He doesn’t like the way her voice sounds, if the speed with which he responds is any indication. “It is alright if you want a child.”

 

Her eyelids feel wet again. She still cannot breathe. “I don’t know if I--”

 

“It is alright if you don’t know.”

 

Her heart is being squeezed, and she feels each punctuated beat in her chest. “Is it really? I was supposed to be just a kunoichi...”

 

His voice is soft; he saves his rare sympathy for his siblings. “And I was supposed to be a monster.”

 

“You aren’t--” She’s quick to respond; he’s quicker to cut her off.

 

“I know I am  _ not _ . I am saying that we are not what our parents thought we would be, and there is nothing wrong with that.”

She still can’t breathe, but she can feel herself smiling now. “Can I hug you?”

 

Gaara nods once.

 

She wraps both arms around his shoulders and pulls him in, squeezing tightly. “I love you.”

 

“Mmmm,” his noise of agreement warms her chest as much as the words would. He wraps one arm around her back.

 

“I’m missing out on  _ another _ hug? Jesus, Temari,” Kankurou groans theatrically, shoving lightly on her shoulder.

 

This action shoves her into Gaara, who grumbles accordingly. “ _ Ouch _ .”

 

“You’re fine,” Kankurou dismisses him, then turns to Temari and crosses his arms.

 

“Just because I don’t like your boyfriend--”   
  
“Fiance--”

 

“Doesn’t mean you can’t hug your own brother.”

 

He slings an arm around her shoulders, and then pulls her strongly to him-- pulling her face right into his armpit.

 

“ _ Ewwww, Kankurou!”  _ She shoves herself away and he chortles, satisfied with himself.

 

“Next time you’ll know how to move your face.”

 

She harrumphs, waving fresh air at her nose. “Why are you so sweaty?”

 

“It’s a desert.”

 

She  _ hmmphs _ one more time. “It’s called  _ deodorant _ .”

 

He ignores her, addressing Gaara. “What are you two talking about?”

 

“Mom and Dad,” she saves Gaara an awkward answer.

 

Kankurou’s surprises arches his eyebrows. “Why?” His distaste is clear.

 

“I’ve been thinking about them,” she shrugs one shoulder. It isn’t a lie. But it’s not the whole truth, either.

Kankurou levels her with his own patented Kazekage Clan stare, unimpressed and suspicious. He looks the most like their father.

 

“I’m moving, and…” He’s letting her finish, for once, but the words aren’t coming to her. She can’t swallow past the lump in her throat and her words aren’t strong enough to force their way through the tight space.

 

“Dad probably would be disappointed in you,” he says it with a shrug, but it doesn’t belly his clever guess.

 

She stares stubbornly back at him.

 

“I’m not so sure of that,” Gaara interjects softly, drawing both his siblings’ attention with ease despite his low volume.

 

Kankurou only shrugs. “Impossible to say for sure.”

 

“He also said that,” Temari adds this time.

 

“I don’t know why you’re worrying about what that bastard would think. He did a shitty job of raising us, especially Gaara, you should be  _ much  _ more concerned with  _ our _ opinions.”

 

“I  _ know _ what you--” Her voice is hot, but Kankurou cuts her off easily, too used to it to be affected.

 

“It’s not  _ him _ I dislike. He’s a fine shinobi, and at the very least he’s not an idiot. I just don’t like the fact that he’s taking you away from us.”

 

“ _ I  _ decided--”

 

“Or that  _ you _ decided to leave us. It doesn’t matter, Temari. The end result is the same, regardless of your intention and regardless of the fact that you love us. You’ll be gone soon.”

 

His words sting like millions of dull pinpricks, but she surrenders a nod because they are true. 

 

“It  _ also _ doesn’t matter that we love you, too, and we’ll let you go. You have to live with it. If you’re going to move and you’re going to live over there, you can’t taint your new life with guilt for leaving us, or for not being the person Rasa probably wanted you to be.”

 

Whiplash. First he hurts her feelings and then he makes her feel better. Par for the course with her middle brother.

 

His eyes are still narrowed. “Nothing to say?”

 

She shakes her head, still stubbornly meeting his gaze but refusing to talk nonetheless.

 

“Good,” he pulls her in for a real hug, and this time she gives in and holds him tightly.

 

Despite himself, Kankurou relaxes in his sister’s touch. She used to be the only person he had in the whole world, that’ll never change.

 

She feels herself relaxing too, exhaling and resting against Kankurou.

 

“C’mere,” her voice is muffled, but Gaara knows the demand is for him. He comes into the group hug and Temari and Kankurou wrap one arm each around him.

 

They feel Gaara relax too, and somehow none of them feels like stepping away.

 

“I’m lucky to have you two.”


End file.
